Soldier, Handyman, Family Man Page 10

  “Well, I’m never going to turn down an offer to eat with you, so yes.” He caught her hand and laced their fingers together, clamping tight, connecting like a bridge between them. “What time?”

  “The usual. After you and Peter get back from surfing. He has a lesson today, right?”

  “Yup. Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays.”

  Claire and Gracie rushed into the kitchen, running under their arms like a London Bridge is falling down game.

  “Okay, then. See you later.”

  “We’re hungry!” In unison.

  “One second, girls,” she said.

  Never breaking from his locked-in gaze, he nodded, letting her hand go, the distance between them growing, then, after rubbing both Claire’s and Gracie’s mop of hair, under their protest, he started to turn to leave. But two steps in, he swiveled back around. “How about having dinner with my family this Sunday? We always get together in the pub, and Mom makes some pretty spectacular meals. I think Anna’s going to be there with Keela and Daniel, too.”

  “You’re inviting my kids, too?”

  “Yay,” the twins chorused.

  “It’s a family meal.”

  She stared at him briefly, touched by the invitation. Getting invited to a family meal was a big deal where she came from, and knowing the Delaney family was close-knit, she also knew his asking meant something. “Then my family and I would love to come.”

  “Yeah, we’d lovey to go over dere,” Gracie piped up.

  Laurel smothered a smile, trying to stay on task. “May I bring anything?”

  “Nope. Just be prepared for chaos.” He looked comfortably resigned to being a part of a big and possibly unruly family, and she envied him for that one instant before he turned and left. “See you later,” he called out as he hit the front porch.

  “Bye!” loudly from the twins.

  See you later. The words sounded so normal. Come to think of it, since moving to Sandpiper Beach, things really had normalized, which was saying something for the long-suffering Prescott family. They’d developed a routine that didn’t center on their father’s illness. The stress that used to hover over them seemed to have dissipated, and in its place, laughter had returned. Even Peter seemed okay now with the move and starting high school, though she had a hunch a girl at school had a lot to do with it. Bottom line, she was becoming part of a community, making friends, and dare she say it, acquiring a boyfriend?

  A warm feeling wrapped around her shoulders. She thought of Mark and his see you later promise. The man was sweet and sexy and so damn handy! Buying a B&B without any experience in running it had been the craziest idea she’d ever had, but maybe it was also the best idea she’d had since becoming a widow.

  If she kept whatever she and Mark had brewing between them in perspective. It couldn’t go anywhere. She was a widow, two years in, but still mourning Alan, struggling to care for and raise her children, and Mark’s attention was a boost to her flagging ego. She had four years on him, and a world of pain in her résumé.

  Though he’d been in the army, he still lived with his family and had the secure job of helping run an established hotel. The way she saw it, he was worry free with few responsibilities. Yet she sensed something deep and painful ran through him, and she could see it in his often-forlorn eyes.

  He’d been away, in the service, in the Middle East. They’d only touched on the topic. Maybe that was the key to why a guy like him preferred to play cat-and-mouse romance with her, rather than a host of women who didn’t come saddled with kids and obligations. Younger women who’d jump at the chance if he’d only look up and out instead of down. Or in her case, across the street.

  It would be interesting to see how he interacted with his family, and maybe Sunday night, if she got the chance, she’d ask him more about his time in the military.

  *

  Sunday night, Mom decided to get everyone involved in preparing the meal. Mark had been assigned grilling duties on the hotel patio for the huge salmon fillets she’d purchased from the fish market at the pier earlier that morning. Off to the side he also grilled a few turkey hot dogs for the twins and Peter, in case they weren’t seafood lovers.

  One of the best parts of fall by the central coast of California was enjoying the excellent “summer” weather after the tourists had all gone home. Early evening, it was still light and warm, and the coastal water was only a few shades darker than the bright blue sky.

  He waved the cedar plank smoke away, still managing to get some in his eyes and blinking hard, then looked up to see Peter and the girls crossing the street. Behind them, materializing through the haze like a lovely dream, came Laurel in a sundress.

  He blinked again, then smiled, his body sparking to life. When she waved and grinned, all seemed immediately right with the world. Which worried him. Was he ready for what that meant, stepping up his game to be worthy of her attention…and affection?

  “Hey,” she said, when they’d reached the patio.

  “You look great.” He wasted no time spilling his thoughts. “Pretty dress.”

  “Thanks. I bought it, and a couple others, for the days I greet my guests. Figured I needed to look like a proper hostess.” She curtsied and gave a light self-deprecating laugh, as though she could only hope to play the part. He knew otherwise. She was born for hosting a fancy guesthouse.

  The white with bright flowers patterned sundress had a wide V-neck with simple cap sleeves, a fitting bodice and a semifull skirt falling just below her knees. Sort of like something from an episode of Mad Men. She came off sophisticated and all woman, and so out of his league. Yet here he was, staring too long and wishing they were alone.

  “How’s the fish comin’?” Grandda appeared out of nowhere, wearing a canary-yellow sweater vest over a goldenrod plaid short-sleeved shirt. How could Mark miss him? The eighty-five-year-old stopped short of the grill and let out a long low whistle. “That dress will get you through all the right doors, it will.” He slid a sly and loaded-with-meaning glance Mark’s way.

  Mark ignored it and went back to watching Laurel.

  Laurel blushed and smiled. “Thank you.” He waited for another curtsy, but it didn’t come. I guess she only does that for me. The thought revved him up more, and he counted the moments until he could get some personal time with Laurel.

  Daisy, his brother Daniel’s Labrador mix—the dog he and his brothers shared duties over when they used to all live in the same hotel suite—broke out of a car that had just pulled up and chased away the lingering moment. Good, too, before things could get awkward with overstated compliments from old men and Mark’s ogling eyes. The last thing he wanted to do was make Laurel uncomfortable because he was having a hard time controlling himself.

  The blondish dog raced toward Peter and the twins, who squealed with glee and chased her around the yard. A friend to all, Daisy romped on the grass and loved it.

  “Danny my boy is here!” Grandda announced, switching his attention from Laurel to the midsized power-red car that had just parked on the street at the base of the long yard.

  His brother, who’d let Daisy out, and Keela, his wife, soon followed. From Mark’s assessment, Keela didn’t look pregnant, though she was at least three or more months, since she was due in April. They exchanged friendly waves with him since he was chained to the grill. He glanced at Laurel, who looked as happy as his grandfather to see them. Last, Anna got out with one huge thing missing.

  “Look at me!” Anna crooned. Her cast was gone. The one she’d had to wear since early summer, after falling into a slack at the huge sand dunes down the way and breaking her leg while running with Daisy.

  The twins stopped playing with the dog when they saw their new friend, then clapped, seeing her without her full leg cast. “Yay!” they sang and danced around. Anna walked gingerly to meet them, one leg noticeably thinner and whiter than the other. When they met up, they all squealed together.

  Daniel climbed the slope of the grass, his ha
nd guiding Keela along, looking happier than he’d been since he was a carefree kid. His physical medicine clinic was becoming a success, and he’d met and married Keela after a horrible breakup with another woman, a woman who’d left him heartbroken and lost, and who’d never loved him back. Then he met Keela. Chalk one up for Grandda and his selkie-lore promises. Whatever caused the change, life was good for Daniel, and it showed.

  Mark and Daniel shook hands just as a sheriff’s sedan pulled up and parked behind Daniel’s car at the curb. Conor soon got out in full uniform, looking all business, but when he saw his brothers, his stern face—a look Mark had gotten used to seeing on his younger brother since returning home—broke into a smile. If you could call that nearly pained expression a smile. He always planned his Sunday dinner breaks around the weekly family-meal hour.

  “Everything’s ready on this end,” Mother called from the pub’s side door. “How’s that salmon coming?”

  Mark waved away more cedar plank smoke. “We’re good to go,” he said, transferring the fish to the huge platter his mother handed him. She noticed Conor and Daniel and Keela and Anna without her cast, and Laurel with the twins and Peter, and left Mark holding the plate, salmon and all. She hugged and greeted each one, her face radiating joy so deep Mark couldn’t help but grin along.

  A sharp whistle from the same pub door ripped the air. His father Sean stood in the same doorway Maureen had just exited, his head nearly touching the top. “Dinner’s ready. Let’s go!” he called out, benevolently herding his family inside, then greeting everyone as they passed with a fatherly hug and a deep-hearted smile.

  Mark hung back, waiting for Laurel and her kids, escorting them inside.

  Sean grinned at Laurel.

  “I signed up for that free trial,” she said on her way in.

  “Great!” He squeezed her arm like they were old friends. After a quick nod, Peter, in usual form, slipped past, when Sean squatted to greet the little girls. It would be their first experience with “dinner” at the family pub. Oh, boy!

  “I hope you’re ready for this,” he said to Laurel, knowing there was no way a person could prepare for it.

  Her soft hazel-brown eyes crinkled, glistening with the golden autumn sun and happy vibes.

  Ready or not, it was time to break bread with the Delaney clan.

  *

  After a typical unruly dinner, life still managed to feel good, sweet and filled with possibilities, which put Mark on edge. Until he put his arm around Laurel, who’d managed to stay bubbly throughout the meal, answering questions flying from every corner of the table. Her confident, positive and humble attitude was a huge draw for Mark. And though preferring to be the strong silent kind of guy, she had a way of helping him open up.

  He’d laughed along with just about everyone else at Grandda’s silly jokes, made eye contact with every person when they spoke, and he’d snuck as many glances at his good-looking date—if that’s what he should call it—as possible without getting caught.

  He had been caught, though, and not just by Grandda with his knowing stare, or his mother, who returned some sort of hopeful gaze, but Peter, too. The kid had been especially quiet during the meal, and seemed to keep his eye on his mother. Mark wasn’t sure how a boy still mourning his father might feel about his mother getting attention from another man. He suspected not good, but it was too late to turn back now. Mark Delaney had a thing for Laurel Prescott, and feeling more like his old self than he had in a long time, he thought he might give whatever they had going on a chance.

  Hopefully Peter would understand.

  He would also make a point to bring up the subject of Laurel + Mark tomorrow afternoon when he gave Peter his surf lesson. Maybe ask Peter for permission to date his mother. He’d planned to butter him up with a surprise—his own board, an old one Mark had been refurbishing in his spare time. He’d removed the wax, fixed the dings, even put on a new, thicker traction pad, and couldn’t wait to see Peter’s reaction. From the glum expression he’d worn throughout dinner, Peter could use a happy surprise.

  The best part about the family pub dinner on Sunday nights was that the hotel restaurant waitstaff cleared the table and cleaned up. After the meal, as everyone meandered toward the family-styled chair groupings in another corner of the pub, he saw Grandda single out Laurel. Not a good thing. But Conor had to get back to work, and he wanted to talk to Mark.

  “I was thinking of going to check out the Beacham house tomorrow, and wondered if you wanted to come along.”

  The Beacham was an old, run-down Gothic-looking house on the cliffs that hadn’t been lived in for over a decade. Conor was fixated on it, had wanted to buy and fix it up since he was in high school and dating Shelby. Why? Mark didn’t have a clue. But it was the reason a man making a perfectly good salary still lived at his parents’ hotel, and life didn’t always make sense.

  “I’ve got a surf lesson with Peter at four tomorrow, but after that, I’m good. As long as daylight holds.”

  “That’s what police tactical flashlights are for.” Conor nearly cracked a smile. “Talk tomorrow, then.” Off he went, stopping long enough to kiss his mother goodbye and shake his father’s and Daniel’s hands.

  He broke up whatever conversation Grandda was having with Laurel—thank goodness—to give the old man a hug, said goodbye to her, then left.

  Mark figured now was as good a time as any to rescue Laurel from the farfetched stories Padraig Delaney was known to tell. He stepped in front of Laurel, reached out his hand and, when Laurel offered hers, entwined his fingers through hers. “If you don’t mind, Grandda, I don’t want to waste a perfectly beautiful sunset.” How could Padraig argue? Then Mark guided her toward the outside pub deck.

  Just before they hit the door, he caught Peter with a solemn gaze watching them. Yeah, he’d definitely have a talk with Peter tomorrow afternoon. Because the way things were going with Laurel, he wanted to give the kid fair warning.

  A few minutes later, Mark and Laurel stood in a secluded corner facing the ocean, forearms leaning on the wooden deck rails, talking.

  “Your grandfather told me an interesting story about you and your brothers.”

  Oh, no, he didn’t! Couldn’t the man keep his fanciful thoughts to himself just once? “Really?” He tried to sound nonchalant, even though he had a good idea of which “interesting” story Grandda had told her.

  “Uh-huh. About a certain fishing trip the three of you took, and a pod of orca…”

  “Oh, let me guess, the one about saving the seal who could turn into a selkie and that now owes each of us a favor?”

  “How’d you know?” she teased, a playful glint in her eyes.

  “You know he’s from Ireland, right?”

  She laughed quietly. “So, I guess it’s true, then?”

  “Touché.” Mark sighed. He loved his grandfather with all his heart, but once the old man got a notion into his head, he simply couldn’t let it go. Having succeeded in predicting Daniel’s finding his wife, all because they’d saved a “selkie,” he’d moved on to Mark—the middle brother—and his ideas were nothing short of laughable.

  Except here he was with Laurel, a woman he’d met a short month ago, feeling things he hadn’t felt since before enlisting in the army…

  “What exactly is a selkie?”

  “They’re folklore characters. Seals at sea who shed their skin to become human on land. That’s all Grandda’s selkie story has in common with the usual myths, where they marry then return to the sea. He insists the seal we saved will return the favor of saving its life by finding each of us a mate. As I said, that’s all his embellishment.”

  “That’s kind of sweet, isn’t it? Wanting you all to be happy and in love?”

  “Sure he’d like to see us all get married, too, but Conor and I both remind him, in our own time. I think because he’s halfway through eighty and getting closer to ninety, he wants to rush us.”

  “Well, I still think that’s sweet, a
nd you’re very fortunate to have such a great family.”

  “They were all on good behavior tonight, except Grandda, of course,” he teased.

  She tossed a look, not having any of it. “Well, it must be nice to have such a support system.”

  Which made him wonder. “Isn’t your family?”

  “Yes, my parents were very supportive during Alan’s trials, but I’m an only child. There were many things I would’ve liked to talk to a sister about.” She went silent for a few moments, staring out to sea. “There was only so much I could dump on my friends, you know?”

  He put his arm around her shoulders and tugged her near. “I can’t imagine what you must’ve gone through.”

  “Nor I you.” Her eyes found his and held his gaze. Was she referring to his time in the Middle East, and the PTSD he’d had to deal with since being home? He’d only hinted at it over their dinner out. Had Grandda spilled the beans on that one, too? Or maybe Peter had confided in her about some of their conversations in the ocean during surf lessons. “If you ever feel like talking…”

  She’d quickly turned the topic back to him. But it’d been a good afternoon and evening, regardless of Grandda’s silly ocean tales, and the last thing he wanted to do was ruin it by bringing up old problems. And lately, the same troubles that’d been plaguing him since the end of his military career seemed to be just that—old concerns. Why dredge them back up now, when the sun was setting bright orange and red on the water? With a beautiful woman by his side.

  “Thanks, but right now I’d rather do this.” He put another arm around her and pulled her flush to his chest so he could let her know how good she made him feel, with a kiss. A kiss that quickly heated up to equal participation and, from the way her hands dug into his back, equal longing. They took their time exploring, enjoying, fanning the coals that always smoldered between them.

  “Hey, Mom, I’m going—” Peter stopped short.

  They quickly broke off the kiss and turned toward his voice.

  He looked confused, maybe a little upset, but covered it up, like he hadn’t seen a thing. “—going home now.” His voice sounded different on the last phrase.